Since I am completely without talent and a disgrace to any critic, who would even bother to raise an objection or find fault in my poetry?

There is a brilliantly disarming irony at play in this couplet. The poet playfully claims to be so completely devoid of talent that criticizing him would be an embarrassment for any serious critic, asking who would even bother finding flaws in something already declared artless. Yet beneath this dramatic humility lies a quiet invulnerability—by refusing to play by traditional rules of craft, his verse becomes utterly untouchable.